Category Archives: Teasers

by | December 3, 2024 · 5:00 am

Max’s Christmas Bunny Teaser Tuesday

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Billionaire Daddy Doms — Bunny (#1)

 

Erotica / BDSM

Date Published: November 29, 2024

 

 

I never thought Bunny ears and a Bunny tail butt plug would be the start of
a grand adventure.

It’s Christmas, and money’s tight, so I asked the agency for a
new assignment. Still, I didn’t expect to wind up in a gilded Bunny
cage in the home of an eccentric billionaire. While I’ve never met
Daddy Jacob, he knows me — he owns the Agency that sent me out on this
assignment. Now I’m to serve as a Christmas present for a man in his
household — a Christmas present for Max.

I’m not certain how the rest of the week will go, but so far it feels
like Max may just be the perfect Master for me. I have the feeling this
assignment could be the start of the biggest adventure of my life.

 

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2024 Wanda Violet O.

 

Christmas has never been my favorite holiday. Having said that, the job
that had just fallen into my lap — to be a Christmas Bunny for some rich
guy with a pet-play kink — was the best Christmas present ever. The money
was nearly obscene, the anticipation of adventure intense.

This job included the possibility of kinky sex. I had been given the
standard safe word and signed a contract outlining my limits, both hard and
soft. Was it the safest thing I’d ever done? Not in the least. But,
again, the money was good — really, really good. If I was ever going to get
out from under the mountain of medical bills I’d been left with after
the crash that had put me in the hospital for a month and killed my mom, I
had to get drastic.

Now I found myself was sitting on a huge, plush, overstuffed red beanbag in
a very large cage, wearing a headband with bunny ears and a butt plug with a
fluffy bunny tail. The cage had a big red bow wrapped around the middle, and
it sat under a massive Christmas tree covered with sparkling, colored
lights. I had several red and green fleece blankets and soft pillows in the
cage so I was comfortable, but the room was warm to me even though I was
naked.

It was early morning and once I’d readied myself, before I got into
the cage, I’d been told it would be an hour before I’d be
needed. I’d been given an alarm to press if I needed help before the
client came for me, or if I felt threatened. Standard for this type of job
with the agency. It was run by the ultra-wealthy and catered to the
obscenely wealthy. I’d been skeptical when I’d first started,
but the agency had never failed to keep me safe.

None of that meant I wasn’t a bundle of nerves, and getting more
nervous the longer I waited.

Just as I was getting ready to hit the panic button, I heard footsteps
coming. A man wearing black silk pajama pants and nothing else stalked down
the stairs. He had long, shaggy hair, and a heavily muscled, sculpted body,
reminding me of a predator moving through the jungle.

This man was classically handsome, with a strong jaw, straight nose, and
piercing blue eyes. His cheeks were wide and masculine with dark stubble
where he hadn’t yet shaved.

When he turned his head, his gaze landed on me and his movements stopped.
He stared at me for a long time, not moving a muscle except to breathe. When
he finally started moving again, he was focused squarely, intently on me.
“I sincerely hope you’re my Christmas present, little
Bunny.”

I knew better than to speak unless I had permission. It had been drilled
into me from the second I’d been accepted to the program. The clients
the agency served had specific tastes. They tried to match us to clients
with similar tastes, but there was always a learning curve if I were staying
more than a few hours. This job was supposed to last a week and could
seriously bail me out, but I had to follow the rules precisely if I wanted
to get the big payday.

The man knelt in front of my cage to get a better look at me. Those
ice-blue eyes of his seemed to caress me as his gaze roamed over my body.
“Be a good little Bunny. Turn around and present yourself. Stick that
ass up in the air so I can have a look at you.”

I did as I was told without hesitation, presenting myself with my legs
apart, ass in the air, and my chest on the floor. I knew what I looked like
because I’d admired the plush, fluffy rabbit tail butt plug before
getting in the cage.

“Hmm, you are quite the gift, aren’t you?” he said, his
voice a low growl. “Who were you sent for, little Bunny?”

“I’m not sure, Sir. Only that I was to stay in the cage and
await the Master’s pleasure.”

“Ah, Max!” the deep voice called from across the room.

I wanted to turn my head and look behind me but didn’t dare.

“I see you’ve found your present.”

“Daddy Jacob.” Max’s tone was subservient but in a
different way than I’d ever heard before. The man was clearly a
Dominant, but differed to this new man? “She’s
mine?”

“If things work out and she agrees, yes. She’s yours. A gift
from me and Kitten.”

I couldn’t help but shiver at the implication. It was an unusual
sensation between fear and… interest? OK, that was disconcerting. I
didn’t know this man and there was apparently at least one more person
here.

I’m not sure what I expected, but there was a long pause and what Max
said next both hurt and confused me. “Have I done something wrong,
Daddy Jacob?” Where before there was amused interest and a healthy
dose of lust in Max’s voice and his eyes when he’d first looked
at me, now it was devoid of emotion.

“Max…” There was a note of censure between them, as if
Daddy Jacob wasn’t happy with Max.

“But Kitten –”

“Kitten knows you need a pet of your own. She loves you as much as
you love her and Andromeda. So do I.”

This seemed like a private conversation and I felt horribly out of place. I
turned my face to the wall next to where my cage sat and stayed perfectly
still.

There was silence while I heard someone unlocking the cage. The door slid
open with a small squeak. “Come out, little one.”

I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I knew without looking at him I
didn’t want to disobey or ignore Daddy Jacob. Keeping my gaze lowered
and my hands clasped in front of me, I scrambled to do as he’d
ordered.

“Kneel and present yourself, sweet Bunny.”

 

About the Author

Welcome to Wanda Violet O.’s world of bedtime fantasy, where you’ll find a
variety of sexy creatures ready to drink their fill. Wanda specializes in
extreme kink. Monsters, BDSM role play… she’s got it all. Come take a look
for yourself!

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

 

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by | November 26, 2024 · 5:00 am

Pilgrimage Through the Storm Teaser Tuesday

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Poetry / Prayer

Date Published: Nov 20, 2024

Publisher:  Serapis Bey Publishing

 

“One does not become enlightened by imagining oneself as a figure of
light but by making the darkness conscious.” 

Carl Jung (1875 – 1961)

 

A deeper level of consciousness can only be birthed from a space of
darkness, the void of all possibility, as all of life has arisen from
nothingness. Such is the paradox of awakening. When you find yourself held
in suspension, and when you are catapulted out of everything you know to be
true, it is easy to forget the truth of who you really are.

However, no matter the outer experiences, your innermost essence is
unchangeable.

A sense of isolation and separation are undoubtedly facets of the dark
night, but in reality you are never alone. Many people have walked this path
before you, there are those who are currently engulfed in its midst and
those who will follow.

The pieces in this book landed as my own journey through the wilderness.
Each fragment is a lived experience, and each lived experience is a
mentor.

I offer you these words as your companion while you transition through your
own inner shadows…may they provide comfort as you move through the
deepest levels of release and find your way home, to a self-compassion you
never knew existed. 

 

EXCERPT

Introduction: The Womb

My eyes open with an unanticipated suddenness. I awaken with a fortress of pillows around me. Safe and secure in the silent darkness. There is a drop in my stomach, I remember. The self-created sanctuary of the womb a thing of the past. A dream shattered to pieces. The plug is out of the socket. I am switched off, absent from myself. Vanished, without a trace.

 Did I ever exist? A deep detachment, an incongruence. A profound disharmony between the world inside me and the world around me. My skin is ripping at the seams, something inside me is desperate to get out. How will I lay this demon to rest? Feelings of fear grip my body and hold me hostage. Enveloped in a state of temporary paralysis; I am caged. The new day brings a promise of endless possibilities. I decide to return the gift unopened. Today’s forecast; winds of despondency. 

The womb beckons me – again – but it is time to face another day. There are things that need to be addressed. Things which have to be done, no matter what my circumstance. Sunrise, an order that must be obeyed. The mundane rituals bear the load of climbing a mountain. I wonder, is the thought of doing something more of a burden than actually doing it? And yet, these daily undertakings throw me a life ring; prevent me from drowning. These banal everyday responsibilities; the key to my sanity. The ‘humanness’ of my situation, both a blessing and a curse. 

As I make a cup of tea, my eyes blankly rest on the world beyond the window. The barren trees and haunting, lonely skies are in commune with my reality. Autumn has come and gone with not so much as a whisper. The jewelled colours now faded leave me with a hollow heart. I am smothered in hues of grey, inhabiting this spartan landscape of gloom. Even the bitter chill that seeps into my bones does not wake me from this century old slumber. Yes, autumn has abandoned me with not so much as a goodbye. I have abandoned myself, with not so much as a goodbye. A subliminal sadness only magnified by the disappearance of the sun. Like a hamster in a cage, in a nomadic frenzy, I senselessly move from one thing to the next, leaving behind a trail of unfinished tasks. And then I pause, frozen, the all too familiar feeling of worry swoops in unannounced and bullies me into submission. A crippling vacuum shadows me all day. It seems the entire world is going about their business and I am forced to remain stationary. I stand with my open wound; reticent in its nature. 

Yes, I exist, but in name only; I am not living. I switch on the television, hoping the images on the screen will somehow reconnect me. But to no avail. The sounds that filter through the radio have the same effect. I remain, quite simply, totally disconnected. 

What gave me pleasure, is now reduced to nothing but a chore. What I looked forward to, now makes me want to hide in a box. However, I continue to put one foot in front of the other. I will get through today; as I did yesterday. Dawn will keep its promise tomorrow and arise as it always does. Perhaps, this is what my Beloved calls, unconditional love.

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by | · 5:00 am

Beneath the Skin Teaser Tuesday

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(Empire of the Sky 5)

 

Steampunk Romance

Date Published: 11/29/24

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

 

Soulmates? Or simply lovers? Selena and Nancy hope their paramours can see
beneath the skin.

 

Selena Whiteheart has her hands full. The malignant witch, Lady Neva, has
kidnapped her lovers, Jacob McCleary and Captain Kit Colby. While keeping
her Home Office handler, Harry Kincaid, satisfied in every way, Selena vows
to rescue them, but first she must contend with a mesmerised assassin.

Meanwhile Nancy Lea, envoy in human form of the goblin king, Mon Ilson,
Emperor of Space, has failed in her bid to secure peace. Queen Victoria has
sent her packing with a flea in her ear. With her lover and protector,
Captain Jaimee Dalgliesh, she returns to the moon to report. With three days
to kill, Nancy teaches Jaimee the joys of weightless lovemaking. However,
Jaimee comes face to face with a real goblin. Can he overcome his visceral
disgust and love the soul beneath Nancy’s stolen skin?

The soul of Agent Felicity Cressy, murdered by Lady Neva, finds a safe
haven in Nancy’s mind. Will Mon Ilson return her to her body, and what does
he expect in return?

 

Excerpt

Copyright ©2024 Mikala Ash

 

Selena Whiteheart

1867 — A Vixen in the Mist

 

I am a duplicitous witch.

Like Janus, the mythological god of beginnings and endings, I present
different faces to the world. I began as Marjorie Fletcher, a naïve
country virgin murdered for my body by hideous goblins. My homeless soul
found refuge in the mind of Cressida Troy, with whom I fell in love.
Inevitably I also lost my heart to her fiancé, Jacob McCleary, and I
experienced lovemaking for the first time through Cressida. Now, as Selena
Whiteheart, human agent of Mon Ilson, the goblin king and self-styled
Emperor of Space, and owner of the empire’s greatest airborne gambling
and bawdy house, I love the handsome and brave Captain Kit Colby.

I stood at my fireplace staring at the likenesses of Jacob and Kit inside a
gold locket. I’d drawn both myself, and think I captured their
essential differences rather well. Jacob, the former schoolteacher, whose
intelligent gaze signified his thoughtful and considerate nature both in and
out of bed, had given me my first experience of lovemaking, albeit
vicariously. He was now estranged from Cressida Troy after the murder of
Fleur Cumberland, which I had orchestrated. Kit, on the other hand, was a
lusty warrior, a decorated hero of the savage air war against Prussia and
the Hungarian Empire. As befitting his martial nature, Kit was both forceful
and deliberate in his lovemaking.

I was lost for a few moments in a warm memory of passionate kisses,
entwined tongues, probing fingers and hard, thrusting cocks before a wave of
fear coursed through me. Tears threatened to flow as I traced their
images.

I was not alone in my office. I was dimly aware of the earnest little man
jabbering about an invention of his. I didn’t care about Mr. Frasier.
I was immersed in a sea of despair, and the peril my charade placed not just
Jacob and Kit in, but me also.

Both Jacob and Kit were captives of Lady Neva Talbot-Rhys, a powerful witch
hell-bent on killing Queen Victoria. Lady Neva held the Queen responsible
for her lover’s death during England’s devastating military
reprisal against Prussia. I understood her wanting revenge. I felt the same
about her.

I had to get them back. Lady Neva was a merciless malevolent maniac,
capable of wholesale slaughter — I’d witnessed that firsthand. My
heart chilled at the thought of what horrors Jacob and Kit were suffering at
her evil hands.

I wanted desperately to believe they still lived. Why else would Lady Neva
kidnap them but to use them for some nefarious purpose?

Jacob had been sent by Mon Ilson to add weight to his envoy Nancy
Lea’s mission to arrange a demonstration of his ultimate weapon. Lady
Neva had stumbled upon Jacob during her search for Kit, and being a skilled
mind reader, she would have instantly known Jacob’s value. That would
have been a surprise to her, no doubt. But she was not one to miss an
opportunity to cause the Queen even greater problems. She had intended to
kidnap Nancy Lea as well, but fortunately she had escaped. I believed Lady
Neva had probably gone to Europe to sell Jacob’s knowledge to one of
Britain’s host of enemies. If that was the case, then Mon
Ilson’s carefully laid plans could be wrecked and chaos would ensue,
resulting in the deaths of millions. Frustratingly, our overseas agents had
not detected any sign of Lady Neva. She had disappeared like a vixen in the
mist.

I shuddered and took in a ragged breath of despair at what she would do to
Kit. Unlike Jacob, who had political value, poor Kit she could torture at
her leisure. Kit had become the object of her revenge after thwarting her
plan to use the Prince of Wales to kill the Queen.

For the time being, as Selena Whiteheart, I do the bidding of the goblin
king, the most powerful witch in history. For the moment our goals aligned.
He too wanted Lady Neva found, for her determination to kill Queen Victoria
threatened to derail his own plans of conquest.

My service to Mon Ilson requires a significant amount of time and energy,
for I must hide my true intentions from him by burying them deep within my
consciousness. I hate Mon Ilson. His goblins had murdered me, and then
stolen my body from the grave. While I obeyed his commands, I secretly
supported his overthrow by Cressida Troy, now his empress, another human
with another name: Nil Ilson.

Cressida had saved my soul. Or rather my nascent magical abilities had led
me to her, and her mind became my temporary safe haven. Then my magical
powers were like a seed, waiting for water and heat. Unwittingly Mon Ilson
supplied those himself, for when he read Cressida’s mind, he had
detected me and recognised my potential as a servant. Like Pandora he opened
the box of magic and let me absorb as much as I could hold.

To regain my body, I had enchanted both Cressida and Mon Ilson into
believing they loved each other and convinced her to prove her loyalty to
him so he would return my soul to my body. As my puppet, Cressida killed the
most powerful human witch, Fleur Cumberland. Mon Ilson repaid me by
returning my soul to my body and sending me to Earth to prepare the way for
his conquest. I had confessed my perfidy to Cressida, hoping she would work
with me to resist him. Cressida married Mon Ilson, and adopted the name Nil
Ilson, and the title Empress of Space.

Mon Ilson’s plan to overthrow the British Empire required the
co-opting of Queen Victoria. He meant to use the vast infrastructure of her
empire to take over the world with hardly a fight. So, for the time being
I’d be his enthusiastic cat’s paw until I could help Nil Ilson,
Cressida, defeat him.

But first I have to find Jacob and Kit.

“Ahem. Er. Miss Whiteheart?”

The clearing throat and hesitant voice reminded me of Mr. Frasier’s
presence. I closed the locket and turned to face the untidily dressed,
red-haired little man. Before I’d lost myself in my own thoughts,
he’d been enthusiastically engaged in a technical monologue about his
new invention.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, returning the locket to my bosom.
“Pray continue.”

He cleared his throat again, and after taking a deep breath began to list
the benefits of his new gadget, a tamperproof roulette wheel.

“It will kill any accusation of fraudulence,” he had
begun.

As if the honesty of my tables had ever been in question. The idea that I
would be accused of cheating was insulting, but I continued to listen with
feigned interest.

His name was David Frasier, a middle-aged inventor and factory owner from
Edinburgh. He’d been introduced to me by Special Branch agent and my
latest lover, Harry Kincaid. After making the introductions, Harry had
excused himself, saying he had to send a message to his club.

That was a lie. The murky shade of Harry’s aura had given him away. I
knew he was listening at the door. He’d asked me to be nice to Frasier
as he was trying to recruit him as a spy. He visited the continent often,
doing business with some prominent politicians and industrialists. The
introduction to me would put Frasier in Harry’s debt.

It was for that reason I resigned myself to listen without objection to the
fellow’s insulting proposition.

Frasier stopped in mid-sentence. He had been enthusiastically describing
his contrivance, something to do with building a miniature mechanical
computational device invented by Charles Babbage, when his face had become
flushed, and beads of perspiration formed on his forehead. His hands started
to tremble, and his final words ended in a slur. His aura had, in an
instant, transformed into a seething pulsating muddy blob, the colours
bubbling through each other in a roiling mass. A moment before it had been
quite normal, nervous perhaps, and very excited, but that is not unusual in
men meeting me for the first time, and after all, he was trying to make a
sale. The transition had been so abrupt, so unnatural, I reached out to his
mind to see the cause. I sensed despair, and most of all, mind-numbing fear.
Hardly a coherent thought peeked through. The one that did was
unmistakable.

“Mr. Frasier, don’t do this!” I put a suppression spell
over him. “Whatever it is, I can help.”

 

About the Author

Aussie Mikala Ash used to be a mild-mannered training & development
consultant by day, and a wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by
night. Now she is a brazen full-time writer and nature photographer who is
concentrating on having among other things, “… bags, and bags
of fun!” Mikala can be found on Facebook and on Twitter.

 

Contact Links

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

 

Preorder Today

 

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by | November 19, 2024 · 5:00 am

Falcon Teaser Tuesday

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Falcon cover

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

Date Published: November 22, 2024

 

It’s all fun and games until my ex shows up from the dead.

 

Gina: For over a year I’ve lived in fear, a monster terrorizing me
within the gates of the Grim Road MC compound. The club took care of the
physical problem, but demons still ride me hard. I’ve learned to trust
the people I interact with on a daily basis, I’m still too anxious to
explore the compound unless I’m with one of the old ladies or Lemon.
Or Falcon… He always seems to be there when the fear threatens to
swallow me whole. He’s protective and caring, and he takes me for
rides on his Harley. Which he had painted pink because he found out I wanted
to ride a pink bike. How many men in a motorcycle club did that?

Falcon: What happened to Gina at the hands Grim Road, myself included, is
something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. My only chance at
redemption is to help her heal and feel safe again. I’m too old for
her, but I can’t seem to care. I want to protect her, but I’m
watching her to an unhealthy degree, waiting for the times she needs someone
to bring her back to reality and assure her she’s safe. Until the day
she invites me inside her sanctuary without a chaperone. I’d never
take advantage of Gina. Not intentionally. Then again, I never expected my
ex fiancé to come back from the dead.

 

Falcon tablet

EXCERPT

Falcon

The soft cry coming from Gina’s bedroom window damned near broke my
heart. She did fine most days, when she had the girls to distract her. But
at night, when she was alone in that house, nightmares visited her
regularly. Those nightmares were partly my fault and that was why I
couldn’t let go of this need to see she was safe. Which is why I was
currently sitting underneath her open window outside her house. At one in
the morning.

Yeah. That wasn’t creepy or anything. Thank God she still stayed in
the compound. I knew she wasn’t really comfortable here, but she had
nowhere else to go. Though she typically stayed in her house or in the
fenced-in backyard, she would very occasionally leave the compound to
grocery shop or whatever. She never went anywhere inside the compound by
herself other than to drive from her house to the main gate and back.

Another soft cry followed by a small sob echoed in the night. It was a
scared, lonely sound, much like that of a child lost from its parents in a
crowd. Among the myriad night noises in the wildlife reserve where our
compound was nestled, she sounded like a caged animal too scared to
fight.

With a shake of my head, I dug my phone out from my back pocket and moved
away from the window slightly behind a shrub and called her. When I heard
her phone play a trilling notification, I moved farther away so she
couldn’t hear me speaking through her open window. She answered on the
fourth ring.

“H-hello?”

“Hey, Gina. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I — no. You didn’t. Falcon?”

“Yeah. Probably shoulda led with that, huh?” I tried to make
fun of myself to distract her. I knew from months of watching over her and
listening to her nightmares she was always shaken when she woke.

“Sorry. I should have checked to see who was calling before I
answered.” She sounded a little more awake and even managed a small
laugh.

“I’m really sorry. I thought I saw your light on and thought
something might be wrong. About the time you answered, I realized it was
Rocket and Lemon’s place.”

There was a short pause and I thought I heard her shuffling around. Maybe
sliding the covers from her body so she could sit on the edge of the bed.
And, Goddamn, that image needed to stay the fuck outta my head!

“You were… checking on me?”

“Well, yeah.” I hoped I sounded sheepish and embarrassed but I
wasn’t that great an actor. But if it pulled her out of her
nightmares, I’d suffer through it. Gladly. “I guess I
was.”

She took in a shuddering breath before speaking again. “Because of
what happened?”

I had to be careful about my answer here. I didn’t want her thinking
I felt obligated to look after her, but I didn’t want to scare her
either. God knew she had plenty of reasons to be scared of me.

“Because you need someone looking after you and I kind of enjoy the
job.”

“You don’t have to, you know. I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will. You’re strong. You need time to heal and to
learn to trust yourself again.”

“I didn’t expect you to say that.”

“Why not? What should I have said?” I kept my voice neutral and
conversational. I wanted her to keep talking so she could settle her mind. I
always managed to find a way to get through to her when she had a nightmare.
I don’t know if she suspected I was watching her or not, but whenever
I’d hear her crying or calling out in fear, I’d send a text. Or
knock on her door. Or call. If she’d noticed the timing, she
hadn’t said anything. Positive or negative.

“I thought you’d tell me I’d have to learn to trust you.
Why would you think I didn’t trust myself?”

I had to smile. I’d led her straight where I wanted her to go and
she’d done so without hesitation. “Because you already trust
everyone in this club. What you don’t trust is your own judgment
telling you to trust us.”

She was silent so long I thought I might have overplayed my hand. Then her
soft voice asked, “How do you know I trust you?”

“Because, when Rocket and Lemon said the club would pay for a place
outside the compound if you wanted to get away from us, you
declined.”

“Yeah,” she said on a sigh. “I suppose you’re
right. I just couldn’t stand the thought of being out on my own again.
I was obviously not very good on my own the first time.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Gina. Once he got you back here, it
was easy for him to make you feel like you didn’t have a choice. You
know better now and you choose to stay.”

“I never really thought about it that way. I couldn’t get past
having to be on my own. And Lemon… well…”

“What about her? You know she’s solidly in your corner.
Right?”

“That’s just it, Falcon. I do know. She didn’t make
excuses for anyone. She didn’t doubt anything I told her. She believed
everything and I was quick to tell her you guys thought I was willing
when… you know… when you…” Even now she
couldn’t say it, and I wanted to claw out my own heart.

“Yeah, honey. I know. We’re all ashamed of that, even if we
didn’t know. We could have taken the time to talk to you more. Or at
all, really.” I gave a self-deprecating snort of laughter. “More
importantly, we could have made sure you knew you weren’t in danger
from any of us. All you had to do was tell someone you wanted away from
Hammer and we’d have removed you from the situation and asked
questions later. We didn’t make it clear so that’s on
us.”

“I guess,” she said softly. “Seems like both of us were
victims of Hammer’s deception.”

“I’d say that’s a fair statement.”

I heard sounds on her end as she moved from her bedroom. I heard a door
open, then close. Moments later, the light in her living room came on.

“You said you saw a light. That you thought it was mine.” She
sounded better now. More herself. Though I hated that she’d donned the
air of indifference she hid behind, I was glad that, at least
subconsciously, she’d trusted me enough to tell me what she had.

“Yeah. I did.”

“Are you close by, then?”

“Yeah. Just outside.” Not a lie.

“Um, would you, uh…” She cleared her throat.
“Would you like some coffee?”

“You good with me being in your space without one of the women
nearby?”

“I think so.” Her voice said she was trying to convince herself
she could do this and wasn’t doing a very good job. “You’d
leave if I got overwhelmed. Right?”

“Absolutely. In fact, why don’t we sit outside on the porch?
That way you can keep the door between us if you want to.”

There was a pause, then a sniffle before she spoke again.
“You’d do that? Just to make sure I was
comfortable?”

“Gina, honey. Of course. I like bein’ around you. I like
talkin’ to you and just wavin’ at you as I drive by. I’ll
do whatever it takes to make sure you always want to spend that kind of time
with me.” God, could I sound any more pathetic? Did I fucking
care?

“Come over, Falcon. I’ve unlocked the door and am making
coffee. Let yourself in. We can sit and chat for a while.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, honey.”

I chuckled as I took my time walking up her driveway. I knocked loudly
before opening the door. Even though she was expecting me, I wanted to make
sure she was well aware of where I was in her home.

“Hey.” Her smile was small, but so beautiful it made my heart
ache. How anyone could have hurt this woman was beyond me. She carried a
tray with two mugs, a pot of black coffee, cream and sugar. That was
something else about Gina. She was always prepared with a way to entertain
guests. I got the feeling at least some of that came from the need to have
something to concentrate on besides being scared all the time. The other was
a desire to make people comfortable and welcome. The way she dealt with all
the children the club had recently acquired seemed to fulfill that side of
her as well. Which gave her an added distraction from her fear. “I
have some caramel sauce in the fridge if you’d rather.”

“Black’s fine for me. Thank you, Gina.”

She fixed hers with a liberal amount of cream and sugar before blowing
gently over the liquid and taking a careful sip. I watched her as I took a
sip of my own coffee, letting the silence stretch. I’d follow her
lead.

“Um, I should thank you. I actually had dozed off and was having a
nightmare when you called.” One hand cupped her mug while she ran her
other hand up and down her arm.

 

About the Author

Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double
life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated
housewife by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes
pleasure in spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited,
vulnerable heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a
blissful ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her
writings are speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning
delight entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying
conclusions that elicit a sigh from her readers.

Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband
with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for
preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts
(which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with
Marteeka’s latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her
website. Don’t forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you
with a potpourri of Teeka’s beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph
events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.

 

Contact Links

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

Author on Facebook

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

 

 

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by | November 12, 2024 · 5:00 am

Balor Teaser Tuesday

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Balor cover

(Balor’s Saints MC)

 

Fantasy Romance, Motorcycle Club

Date Published: November 15, 2024

 

 

Tap into the magick, feel the heat, and ride along with the Balor’s
Saints MC on this unmissable journey of danger and desire.

 

Belladonna: My father, the leader of my coven, is a monster. When I hear
him talking about selling me in marriage to another coven, I know I need to
escape. And there’s only one hope. I have to find the mage who
prophesied to father the most powerful child seen in centuries and get him
to sleep with me.

I knew tricking the notorious dark mage Balor Hades into bed was risky. But
I’d planned to be gone before my spell wore off. Just one
problem… He woke up before I did. Now he’s confined me to his
house… and he’s beyond pissed.

Balor: The witch should have never darkened my doorstep. She definitely
shouldn’t have cast a spell on me. But she did, and now I know
she’s mine… my fated mate. I’ve waited two hundred years,
and now that I have her in my grasp, I’m not letting her go.
I’ll put everything on the line to protect her, even from her own
father. But can the town of Darkwood survive a battle with her coven?

My brothers in the Balor’s Saints MC have my back, even if they
aren’t too sure about Belladonna just yet. With them on my side, I
know we’ll get through this. Except I’ve been keeping something
from them — my real identity. When they find out, will all hell break
loose? Or will they still stand with me to fight against the supernatural
storm brewing?

 

Dive into this supernatural romance that mixes spicy passion with
pulse-pounding action.

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EXCERPT

Balor

Adjusting my leather jacket, I stepped into the clubhouse, letting the door
swing shut behind me. Casual attire suited my alter ego — jeans, a plain
T-shirt, and the jacket that was more than just a piece of clothing. It was
a symbol.

The low hum of conversation filled the room, mingling with the scent of
leather and beer. The clubhouse had an air of camaraderie, the kind that
came from shared secrets and mutual respect. Balor’s Saints MC — my
club. My men. Even if they didn’t realize it yet.

I nodded to someone across the room, my gaze sweeping over the familiar
faces. Collin lounged on the couch, his eyes fixed on the TV screen. The
crime drama playing out seemed a bit too close to home. I’d heard the
whispers when he’d come to town. Seen the warrant myself. He’d
seemed genuine when he’d said the crime had been justified. Still. I
liked to make sure he wasn’t killing anyone while he was here.

I’d built this club gradually, but the idea had come to me about
twenty years ago. Maybe slightly longer, or shorter. As long as I’d
been alive, forget days blurring together. Entire years did. Collin had
joined us about five years ago. I knew for a human that was a decent amount
of time. For the rest of us, it was barely a blip on our radar. None of
these men had known one another before I’d brought them into the club,
and they hadn’t all moved to town even close to the same timeframe.
But somehow, we worked well together, even though we all had a darker side,
including the human. My club brothers weren’t saints — despite our
club name — but we didn’t harm the innocent.

I took in the sharp angles of his face, the pale blue eyes that seemed to
not miss a thing. I didn’t think anything in the room escaped his
notice. Collin was always watchful. I’d wondered if it was because of
the life he’d led running from the law, or if it was something else.
Right now, he seemed at ease. His dark hair was short, the faintest hint of
a five-o’clock shadow along his jaw. He didn’t bother to look my
way as I crossed the room to take a seat beside him.

I watched Clay and Jackson play a game of darts. My gaze moved to the TV. I
didn’t need to look at Collin for what I had planned. I doubted
he’d even realize what I was doing. My magick slid along my skin, like
the soft caress of a lover. I let it slither out, searching. When it brushed
against Collin’s thoughts, I felt the familiar tingle in my
fingertips. He didn’t even flinch. No indication he knew what
I’d done. I’d gotten better at being subtle. No images of blood
or fear. I did see a few images of him fucking one of the strippers down the
road. I wouldn’t deny it made my dick hard. I’d never claimed to
be a saint. Even my club brothers didn’t know how true that was.

“Show any good?” I nodded to the TV.

He snorted. “It’s crap. But it’s better than
nothing.”

The low hum of the TV nearly drowned out the sound of the darts hitting the
board. Someone had turned off the lights in the front of the building, and
shadows crept along the walls in the great room.

Collin shifted on the couch. “Didn’t expect to see you
tonight.”

I offered a faint smile. “Had some business in town. Thought
I’d stop by, have a drink with my club brothers.”

Clay pulled a dart free from the board a few feet away. I watched as the
muscles in his back bunched under his shirt. He threw the dart, and I heard
the thud as it hit the target.

“Not bad,” Jackson Mays said. He pulled his own darts free and
stepped back.

Jackson’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, and I saw his eyes
darken. Not with lust. No. The necromancer didn’t want to fuck me. He
wanted to pull me apart and see what made me tick. I’d have to watch
him. I’d never admit it, but I didn’t know everything he could
do. I’d need to look into his kind a bit more, see how much of a
threat he could be. Another thing I’d been putting off. It
wasn’t like Jackson hadn’t been here for about a decade already.
Then again, there was a chance I wouldn’t be able to dig up much,
regardless of which contacts I used. He seemed like the type who knew how to
keep his secrets buried.

His raven hair was neatly trimmed, his clothing immaculate. I’d
noticed he preferred darker colors, and today was no different. The shirt
and jeans he wore were black, even his boots.

“Think you can do better?” Clay asked.

“I can try.” Jackson’s tone remained calm and
measured.

Clay threw his last dart and joined us, grabbing a beer from the fridge
before he settled into a chair. “You’ve got to be cheating.
There’s no way you’d consistently win against me, not when my
reflexes are better.”

“Just lucky.” Jackson’s lips twitched.

Ben, who’d been sitting at the table, looked up from his phone. He
seemed to see right through me. His dark hair was mussed as if he’d
run his fingers through it repeatedly. A perpetual smirk played on his lips,
and I could see the appeal he’d have for a lot of people. He had a
roguish charm and oozed danger. His looks and confidence didn’t hurt
either. I knew better than to assume he was harmless. I could see it in the
way he carried himself. The others didn’t seem the least bit concerned
about him.

I’d heard a little about him before he joined the club nearly twelve
years ago. Not enough to satisfy my curiosity. He kept to himself a lot.
I’d considered trying to read his thoughts but worried it might scare
him off. I’d wait it out. If he was a threat, we’d figure it out
sooner or later. I’d hoped it would be later. I liked him, and I knew
the others did too.

He stood and made his way over to us. His movements were almost ethereal in
their grace. There was something almost intimate about it, and it made me
understand why so many people offered up their necks to him, or any other
veins he wanted to sink his fangs into.

“This is what we’ve come to? Watching bad TV because
we’re too lazy to find the remote?” he asked.

I chuckled. “It’s not so bad. Beats staring at a wall.”
These men were my brothers, not by blood but by choice. And yet I lied to
them every fucking day. If they ever found out… No, it wouldn’t
do me any good to go down that road. Not until I had to. Sooner or later, my
identity would come out. Nothing remained a secret forever.

Clay took a swig of his beer. “Heard some weird things going on in
town. You hear anything?”

I shrugged. “I hear a lot of things. Some of them might even be
true.”

Ben snorted. “You’d think people would have better things to do
than gossip.”

“Humans have always gossiped,” I said. “It’s in
their nature. But supernaturals are even worse.”

Collin leaned back, stretching his legs out. “So, what’s the
word on the street, then?”

I let my gaze drift over him. “I hear there’s a human in town
who likes to play house with a bunch of supernaturals. As in keeping them
like pets.”

Jackson’s eyes darkened, and I wondered if he’d be seeking out
that person and liberating the enslaved people. Our people. There
weren’t a lot of humans in this town, not compared to the number of
supernatural beings, but the ones we did have didn’t typically cause
trouble. But this person was new and clearly didn’t know the rules
yet.

“Know what else I heard recently?”

 

 

About the Author

Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC
Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde
immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible
women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still
managing to end on a satisfying note each time.

When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new
plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book.
She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies.
Visit Wylde’s website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and
don’t forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts
and other exciting perks.

 

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

 

Pre-Order Today

 

 

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